Smeagol's Sinister Scheme
by CapNicholls
Summary: Smeagol has a sinister scheme, what else?
1. Chapter 1

**S** _ **méagol's**_ **S** _ **inister**_ **S** _ **cheme**_

Master and the fat hobbit toss their bags on the ground, and they flops down.

"Come, hobbitses, must hurry! No time to lose! Weeses knows the way, yes we does,

Precious!" We chuckles to ourselves.

"Oh yes we does, Precious, yes we does."

The fat hobbit looks up and glares at us. "Alright, alright, keep your shirt on," he says

to us.

We snarls at him. "We doesn't _wear_ a shirt! And we must _go_ , you fat, foolish hobbit!"

We spits at him.

"Now see here, you sneak. I've about had it with you and your rushing us all the time.

Poor Mr. Frodo doesn't have the energy to-"

"Leave him alone, Sam." Master says to the fat one. "He knows what dangers are here.

We don't."

The fat one backs down. "Jus' sayin', Mr. Frodo." he mutters.

"Must go," weeses says, "must go now!"

Master sighs. The fat one helps him up. We goes along ahead to see if there's is any

dangers.

No dangers. We waits for the hobbitses, yes.

Gollum says to us, "We could lead them to her and be rid of them."

We covers our ears. "Not listening."

"And after she eats them, Precious, we coulds get it back, our birthday present."

"Not listening! Leave us alone!"

"And weeses could forget all about these nasty hobbitses when weeses gets it back,

my love."

"But Master is nice. We wouldn't want to hurt Master."

"Ah, but, Precious, we wouldn't have to. We could get her to do it for us. She hasn't

eaten anything but nasty orcses for a long time."

Suddenly, Master and the fat hobbit comes around the corner. Gollum leaves us alone

then.

Weeses walks for a long, long time, then, when all is dark, the fat one says, "That's it,

Sméagol. We can't go on any further tonight, even if you can."

We is about to snap at him, when we sees that Master has fallen on the ground and is

moaning.

We gives a huff. "Fine, Precious. But hobbits must wake up early in the morning!"

The fat one nods at us and says to Master, "You can sleep, Mr. Frodo. I'll keep

watch."

The Master gives him a grateful smile and then he falls asleep. The fat one gives us a

cold look, but he keeps his mouth shut.

We grumbles to ourself about the fat one. "We doesn't like him. He's dippy and mean.

He slows us down with his pots and pans. Walks too slow. Always wants to stop when

there's still light out. Never-"

"I can hear you, you know." The fat one is talking. "Now be quiet, or Mr. Frodo won't

get no sleep!"

We snarls. We goes down to the stream to catch us a nice, juicy fish. We doesn't have

to wait long. We sees a big tasty one and we snatches it up.

As we eats it we sings to ourself,

" _A fish, so lovely cold and sweet,_

 _We will smash it with our feet._

 _It wiggles around to get away,_

 _But we won't let it go astray,_

 _We eats our fish, so nice and raw,_

 _We snatches a bird that wees saw._

 _Hobbitses eat taters,_

 _Nasty Elves…"_

Here we stops and snarls,

" _Nasty Elves eat wheat,_

 _Dwarves like meat,_

 _But the only thing for Smeeeea-gooooool,_

 _Is nice raw fish, so juicy sweet."_

"Oy, what're you doing down here?"

We rolls our eyes. It's the fat one.

"You're going to wake up Mr. Frodo if you keep screeching like that!"

Weeses bares our teeth at him "Weeses wasn't _screeching,_ we was singing." We sniffs.

"The fat hobbit doesn't appreciate good singing!"

"Oh, I've heard good singing, and it sure didn't come from you."

Then, he isn't looking at us any more. He stares off to somewhere else.

"When the elves sing, now _that's_ some good singing."

We snarls. "We doesn't like elves, Precious. Does we? Elves are nasty, mean."

Then the fat one gets mad at us.

"Now you see here!" he says to us. "You don't like me, you don't like orcs, and you

don't like elves! And if you don't like elves, you must not like anything!"

We hiss. "Except fish, Precious." We pause. "And crunchable birds."

"You don't care about anything but fish! And crunchable birds! I bet you wouldn't

mind a bit if we fell down a cliff, or fell into a river and drownded! You'd be happier off

without us." He narrows his eyeballs at us. "And I be much happier too, without you

hanging around here."

That, Precious, was the last straw for poor Sméagol.

We hurls a rock at him. But the fat one is faster than he looks, Precious. He whirls

around and he pulls out a sword. Weeses stops and screeches. The fat one thrusts his

sword at us.

"Ha!" he yells. "Take that! And _that_!"

We scrambles out of the way just in time.

Just then the Master runs up and grabs the fat one's arm and tries to wrench the sword

out of his hand. But the fat one is stronger than he looks as well, Precious.

"Sam! Stop it! What are you doing?!"

The fat one still fights to keep his grip on the sword.

"Mr. Frodo, he threw a rock at me! If I hadn't moved, he would've gouged out my

eye!"

The Master finally yanks the sword out of the fat one's hand.

"Enough, Sam!" The Master says. He looks at us. "Why did you try to hurt Sam?"

We thinks quickly.

"What? Hurt the nice hobbitses? Why would Sméagol want to do that? We thought we

saw an orcses, but it was just a shadow. Nothing but a shadow."

We looks pleadingly at Master.

"Master must trust us."

The fat one looks at Master.

"Don't trust 'im, Mr. Frodo. He's out to get me, and you too!"

The Master sighs, and for a moment we pity him. "They're like toddlers," he grumbles.

Then we doesn't pity him any more.

He looks at us. "Come, Sméagol."

He looks at the fat one. " You can sleep now, Sam. I'll keep watch."

"But Mr. Frodo-"

"Sam. Go on. I need to talk with Sméagol."

The fat one walks off. When he gets to the hobbitses bags, he looks back. He shakes

his head and he flops down.

Master looks after him for a moment, then turns back to us. He looks us in the

eyeballs.

"Now, look here, Sméagol. I want to believe the best about you, but Sam keeps

insisting that you're 'out to get us'." He heaves a sigh. "But you're the only one who

knows how to get to Mordor. I'll make sure Sam leaves you alone, at least for the most

part, if you can just get us to Morder without getting any of us killed. Deal?"

We thinks for a moment.

Master gives a small smile. "I understand."

Our head pops up. Our eyeballs bulge out. "Master knows our plan?"

Master looks confused. "Plan…?" But then he smiles. "Of course I know the plan.

You're going to help us find the way into Mordor, then leave us alone (thank goodness),

whoops, did I say that out loud? Then we will travel up Mount Doom, and I," He pauses

for dramatic affect, and when he speaks again, he shouts: " _will throw the Ring in Mt._

 _Doom, and save us all_!" 

Then we realizes Master is completely nutty.

"The plan to get the nice hobbits safely into Mordor!" We says quickly.

But then he says, "I suppose you can't promise to get us to Mordor safely. After all,

there are many dangers there, some that even you don't know about."

Master stares at the mountains. Weeses can see them in the distance. He is silent for a

moment, then he speaks, softly to himself, but we can hear him.

"…don't know of the dangers we'll come across. Didn't know of the dangers there.

Tried to hide, but he found me. Stabbed me…" His hand strays up to his left shoulder.

We looks at Master. He isn't making sense.

We gives a small hiss, and Master comes back to his senses. He looks at us. "You

probably think I'm cracked."

We gives our head a tilt. Well… But we says, "Master? Cracked? Of course not!

Master is nice… _sane_ hobbit."

Master says, "You'll want some sleep, I suppose. Go on, I'll keep watch." He shudders. "And

hope that the Throgger doesn't get me again!"

Please Review!


	2. Chapter 2

Really sorry this took so long! It's a funny chapter, though, so maybe that'll make up for it...

* * *

The next morning, Sméagol says that they must go on.

We walks through the Forest of Pine-Pricks (we named it ourselves, we did). The

hobbitses got pricked so many times with sharp pine-needles. Sméagol got pricked the

first time we went in. The trees reached out and grabbed us, Precious! Now we know

where the sharp needles are and we goes around those, yes, Precious.

We and the hobbitses gets through the forest quickly. Then we crosses the Drowning

River. (We named that one, too.) We swims through it, but the hobbitses are chickens.

"Come, hobbitses!" We shouts over the roaring waters. "Must come quickly, or the

river will knock you off your feetses!"

The fat one says something to Master, then slowly walks in the water. He walks a few

feet, then stops and turns to Master.

"It's alright, Mr. Frodo!" He shouts. "The water appears to be exactly seventy-three

point five degrees! And it's not going very fast either. Shall I explain why?" Without

waiting for an answer, the fat one bursts into an explanation. "You see, when it's

summer, the ground is dry, and therefore will soak up more water. So the loughs and

rivulets (that's lakes and streams to all you non-wise folk out there) won't have as much

water. Shall I explain the evaporation process as well? You see, most people don't think

that the evaporation process has anything to do with why the rivulets are so dry, but I

highly disagree. You see, if the evapor-"

"Enough with the evaporation whatever!" yells Master, who has been standing on the

shore, clutching a tree and looking sick. "I can't have people talk about science around

me. I get sick whenever anyone so much as mentions science. And you just went into a

big scientific explanation…" Master starts to look green. Then he suddenly has all his

wits about him. He cocks an eyebrow at the fat one. "Where did you learn all that foolish

scientific nonsense, Sam?"

The fat one blushes. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton's been learnin me some proper

scientific explanations. Actually, it's much more than science. There's quite a bit of math

in there too. You see-"

Master covers his ears. "Math! Augh! I feel as though I may pass out…"

The fat one looks panicked. "What should I do?!"

"Talk about something…non-scientific…" Master wheezes. He coughs. "Maybe then

I'll be…alright…"

"Something non-scientific! Right! Uh… do you have any idea how florets (flowers to

all you non-gardeners out there) grow? It's quite simple really. You see, you dig a hole

approximately three and one-quarter inches deep, then you place the bulb in. Then you

cover the bulb with exactly five-point seven ounces of soil." He looks closely at Master.

"Got that, Mr. Frodo? Five-point seven ounces. Not an ounce more or less."

"Of course Sam. Five-point…" Master faints and falls to the ground.

The fat one stares. "He's really done it! He's really gone and fainted! Mr. Frodo? Are

you alright? If it will help and it pleases you I will resume my meaningful pep-talk. No it

won't help? Huh." He plops down on a rock. "I thought for sure it'd work. That's what

me ol' gaffer used to say to me: 'Iffins one of yer friends faints, young Samwise, you just

start a pep-talk on how to plant flowers. They'll be so interested, they'll be up in a jiffy' "

Master wakes up. "Sam? I had a horrible dream. You were talking nonsense about

flowers, and streams. You called them something else, only I don't remember what." He

looks expectantly at the fat one. "Where were we?"

"Well, sir, I was about to tell you if the water was deep or not."

"Oh. Then please, " Master waves his hand. "By all means. Resume."

"Oh. Alright, then."

The fat one clears his throat. "It's alright, Mr. Frodo! It's not very deep-"

Just then, the fat hobbit disappears under the water.

"Sam!" Master yells with a frantic look in his eyeballs.

Then he dives in the water as the other hobbit comes to the top.

"Help! Help Mr. Frodo! I can't swim!"

"Hang on Sam! I'm coming!"

The Master tries to swim over to him, but the current sweeps him away, never to be

seen again.

"Sammmmmm…"

We hears a splash and an "Aughhhh!" and we knows he has gone over the waterfall.

The fat hobbit looks shocked. "Mr. Frodo!" He wails. "I'm coming! I'll save you!

Aughhhh!"

With that, the nutty hobbit leaps over the falls after poor Master.

Gollum looks at the falls thoughtfully for a minute, then says, "Weeses didn't even

 _have_ to bring them to her. We gets rid of them fine and dandy on our own."

"Stop it!" Sméagol sobs. "Master was nice hobbit! Now Master is gone!"

"Ah, but love, now we can get our birthday present back. It's rightfully ours."

Sméagol stops weeping. "Our… _birthday_ …present. Yes, yes, weeses forgot all about

our birthday present!"

"Let's go to the bottom of the falls, and get it back! Before anyone else finds it!"

"Yes, yes, Precious!"

With that, we leaps from rock to rock down the side of the falls.


	3. Chapter 3

When we gets to the bottom of the falls (now we names those Birthday Present Falls),

we sees two figures lying on the rocks. Neither of the hobbitses are moving.

We runs over to the fat one and pinch his nose. He doesn't move.

We scuttle over to Master. We sees the Ring on a chain around his neck. We reaches

for it. Then Sméagol sees that Master has a big gash on his head. Pity returns.

"We can't take it from Master." We says, pulling our hand away.

"It's _ours_ , Precious." Gollum says, reaching for it.

"No! it's Master's! It's Master's Precious."

"No, it's OURS!"

Gollum snatches the chain and the Ring off of Master's neck. He does a victory dance.

" _Weese gots it back._

 _Weese gots our-_ AUGH!"

Weeses is tackled from behind. Precious flies out of our handses, and lands smack in

the fat one's pocket.

Weeses hear Master say to us,

"Where is it?! Where's the Ring?!"

We turns our head slightly and we sees a crazed look in the Masters eyeballs.

"Don't have it, Precious! Don't have the Ring! Weeses just came down to see if nice

hobbits were alright!" We spits.

Master puts his hand on his sword hilt. Weeses squawk and wrench free.

Master leaps towards us. Suddenly he stops. Weeses follow his gaze. Master is

looking at the fat hobbit's pocket. We see part of the chain sticking out. We sneaks a peek

at Master. He looks gob-smacked.

He starts to walk over to the fat one, right as the fat one wakes up. He groans.

"Mr. Frodo…?"

Master pounces on the Ring. But once again, the fat one is faster than he looks.

He leaps out of the way, looking uncertain.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?"

"You know what."

Master's words come out like a whisper. There's a wild look in his eyeballs.

"Give it to me."

"I don't quite follow you Mr. Frodo-"

"You follow me perfectly! You stole it from me!" Master yells.

Quick as lightning, Master pulls out his sword. The fat hobbit looks alarmed.

" _Give me the Ring!"_ Master leaps towards the fat one.

"Mr. Frodo, just calm down-"

Master thrusts his sword at him. The fat one gets out of the way just in time.

The fat one runs away as Master leaps after him. He catches the fat one and whirls him

around. He points his sword at him. He bares his teethes.

"Give. Me. The. Ring."

"I don't have the Ring, Mr. Frodo! Search me!"

The fat one turns out his left pocket, then his right. The Ring clinks as it hits the

ground.

The fat one stared at it with a shocked and horrified look on his face, yes, Precious.

The Master snatched it up and stroked it lovingly.

"Mr. Frodo, I didn't take the Ring! I promise! You've got to believe me!"

Oh no! Master _can't_ believe the fat hobbit! Or Master will knows _weeses_ took it!

"Don't believe him, Master! We sees him sneak around and he takes the Ring from

youses," we lies.

Master looks at us and says, "Frankly, Sméagol, I trust Sam more than I trust you."

We sees the look in his eyeballs is gone.

He turns to the fat one. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry. It's the

Ring," he says simply and walks on after sheathing his sword.

He turns when he sees we aren't following. "Coming?" he asks.

"One minute, Mr. Frodo! Go ahead, I'll be right behind you." says the fat one.

Master nods and walks slowly along.

The fat one glares at us and says, "Why'd you lie, you sneak?"

Weeses snarls at him. He narrows his eyeballs at us and says, "You listen to me. All

I've heard out of you is lies so far, and I've got this feeling that where you're leading us

to isn't good. If you hurt Mr. Frodo, if you so much as _think_ about hurting Mr. Frodo,

you'll be sorry. Got that?"

We nods. Fat one says, "Good," and walks after Master.

"You're hurt!" we hears him say when he reaches him, and we catches up with the

hobbits.

The fat one takes off his pack and digs through it. He comes up with a plant.

"Here," he instructs, "put this on your laceration."

Master gives a weak smile. "Getting scientific, are we Sam?"

The fat one blushes. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton's also been learnin' me some proper

sentence structure."

Master laughs, then faints at the thought of the fat one using proper grammar.

"Mr. Frodo?!"


	4. Chapter 4

This is the final chapter, and It's pretty long. Sorry about that. Have fun reading!

* * *

We waits impatiently for the fat hobbit to finish piecing Master back together. _Finally_

Master is back in one piece.

"Come, hobbitses!" we says.

The fat one says something that weeses can't hear. We hiss at him, then run ahead.

While we waits, Gollum says to us, "To her! We brings them to her!"

"No! We doesn't like the fat one, but Master is nice! We doesn't want to hurt Master."

"Master attacked us, Precious! And the fat one doesn't like us, and we doesn't like

him, does we?"

We shakes our head. "We doesn't like the fat one. And Master tricks us. We thought

he was nice, but he attacks us for the Precious."

We nods. "We brings them to her." We stops. "We doesn't _like_ her." We gets a wild

look in our eyeballs. We spins around to Gollum. "What if she _eats_ us, Precious? What

then?"

"Well we doesn't have to bring them to her, Precious. We could bring them to

somebody else."

A light comes on over our head. "Yes, yes, we could!"

He turns to us and tells us the plan.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

We walks with the hobbitses until we get to a cave.

"We stays here for the night," we says.

The fat one looks suspiciously at us.

"Why are we stopping now? You're always rushing us to go as far as possible in one

day." He narrows his eyeballs. "You're up to somethin' "

We puts a shocked look on our face.

" _Us_? Try to hurt nice hobbits? Try to hurt _nice_ Master? Try to hurt the foolish fat one?

Why would we do that?"

The fat one starts to speak but Master cuts him off. "Sam, if he wants to give us extra

time to rest, I'm not going to argue."

"Of course, Mr. Frodo. Whatever you say, Mr. Frodo," the fat one says hurriedly.

Master nods and falls to the floor. He starts snoring. The fat one keeps a watchful eyeball

on us. Soon, his head starts to nod. He starts to snore too. We slowly crawl to the back of

the cave. The fat one snorts and jerks. We stops. "No…no, Venus flytraps eat flies, not

hobbits…don't eat me…" When he stops moving and muttering, we go to the back of the

cave and knock softly on the back. A secret invisible door opens. An orcses sticks his

head out.

"Well?" he demands.

"Shhh! We has prisoners for you. Bring them to the Master Eyeball."

"That's Master Sauron to you! Who and where are these prisoners?"

We points to the hobbits. "Hobbitses. There."

The orc says to someone behind him, "Get the rope. It's a Halfling."

"Two," we hiss, " _two_ nasty hobbitses."

The orcses start to creep out. Then one trips and crashes into another orcses.

The fat hobbit wakes up and suddenly is on his feet with his sword in his hand.

"Mr. Frodo! Get up! Orcs!" he cries.

In a flash, Master is up too. He yanks a light saber from his belt and switches it on.

The fat one stares. "Noodles, Mr. Frodo! Where'd you get _that_?!"

Master looks sheepish. "Well, Sam, the truth is, the Ring is only _half_ the reason I

agreed to go to Mt. Doom. You see, I've been a Harry Potter fan all my life, and I've

always wanted to meet him. So I wanted to go to Hogwarts, the school he went to. But I

never received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, so I left the Shire to become…a

JEDI!"

He raises his fist and punches the air, striking a dramatic pose. The fat one stares

blankly at him. "You sure you're alright, Mr. Frodo?"

Master sighs and his hand drops. "Never mind." He gestures to the orcs. "What say we

just fight these orcs?"

The fat one grins. "I'm with you!" He suddenly stops smiling. "At least, when you're

not acting like a nut."

Master cocks an eyebrow. The fat one quickly says, "But you _rarely_ act like a nut."

Master's other eyebrow flies to the top of his head too. The fat one quickly puts his

hand in the air. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor? Why, Sam, I didn't know you were a scout."

The fat one goes red and looks at his hobbit feetses. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton's been-"

"At it again, I see." The Master sighs. "No, don't tell me, Sam. Let me guess." He

deepens his voice a bit. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton's been teachin' me some scoutin' skills."

"No, no, no!" the fat one shakes his head, "You've got it all wrong! It's Rosie

Cotton's been _learnin'_ me some scoutin' skills. Not _teachin'_." He narrows his eyes.

"Rosie Cotton _never_ teaches. She only _learns_."

Master gives a thoughtful nod. "I see. Well, it looks like these here orcs are getting

anxious to do some fighting. And we wouldn't want to disappoint them."

The fat one shakes his head. "No way, José! If there's one thing I've learned, it's that

you don't disappoint an orc. On account of…" Here he clears his throat. "Ploadun

Dugglebey, when he came to the Shire, he found an orc. And when that orc saw him, he

wanted the beet that Ploadun was holdin'. And Ploadun said, 'No siree-bob!' and that orc

ran him out of the Shire and down the road. And he took the beet anyway." He peered at

Master. "And that, Mr. Frodo, is why you don't disappoint an orc. You could get runned

out of the Shire! And have your beet taken from you so fast you can't even blink!"

Master smirks. "I think you got your facts wrong." He pulls a map from out of thin

air. The fat one stares. "Where'd you learn how to that, Mr. Frodo?"

"Well, Sam, _Gandalf's_ been 'learnin' _me_ a couple magic tricks. Anyway…" He nods to

the map. "Shall I continue?"

"Of course, sir."

"You see, Ploadun Dugglebey _stole_ that beet from the orc, so the orc ran after him,

around Hobbiton, through West Farthing, across Ale Creek, up Second Breakfast Hill,

and finally caught him at Elf Lane."

As Master talks, he points with a pointing stick on the map where the orc and the

hobbit ran.

When he is done speaking, he rolls the stick in the map and they vanish. He looks at

the fat one. "How could you have not known that, Sam?"

The fat one blushes. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton only just started learnin' me some

historical facts and figurations."

"Of course. I should have known. That's the obvious answer, isn't it?" Master mutters.

He forces a smile. "Now can we _please_ fight these orcs? I'm _dying_ to get in some

sword fighting practice."

The fat one grins. "I'm with you!" He suddenly stops smiling. "Well, when you're not

acting like a-"

"Enough!" Master yells. "Not again! I can't take any more! Can't take any…"

He starts to sob. The fat one looks embarrassed. "Not with everyone around, Mr.

Frodo! They're all starin'!"

Master sniffs. "Of course, Sam." He stifles a sob and looks up, all teary-eyed at the fat

one. "Please tell me Rosie's been learnin' you some fighting skills?"

"Well, she ain't exactly the fightin' type…"

"We're doomed!" Master starts to bawl again.

"'Sokay, Mr. Frodo! I can fight! Really I can!"

Master leaps to his feet. "Well, then what are we waiting for?"

The fat one clears his throat. "Actually, sir, that's Gimli's line."

Master glares at him. "Not a word."

The fat one says, "And that one's Strider's."

Master looks like he's about to blow his stack. "HAVALAD!"

"Taken." He looks closely at Master. "You look terrible."

Master smiles wickedly. "That's already someone else's line."

"Oh." The fat one looks uncertain. He clears his throat a few times. "Well, uh, maybe

we should just forget about stealing their lines and fight these orcs, huh?"

Master nods, all satisfied-like and gives a yell. He and the fat one charge towards the

orcses and they start fighting. Master and the fat one are outnumbered. There are at least 5

orcses. But the Master and the fat one are good sword fighters. They take them down, one

by one. We sees a big orc sneak up behind the fat one. He is about to run him through,

when the Master sees him and yells for the fat one to turn around. The fat one swivels

around and knocks the sword out of the orcs handses, and the orc falls to the ground. The

fat one stabs him, but the orc doesn't die. In no time Master has sliced up the rest of the

orcses, and just when the fat one is about to kill the orc, Master says, "No! Don't kill

him." He leans right in the orcses face.

"Who sent you? What do you want?"

The orc snarls and says nothing. Master points his sword at the orc.

" _Tell me_!" He says in a fierce whisper.

The orc finally says, "We were put on watch here. We were waiting for the other orcs

to come."

"Why?"

The orc growls and spits.

"Why were you waiting for them? Answer me!"

"They have…prisoners."

Masters narrows his eyeballs . "Who are these prisoners?"

"Halflings. Like you."

Master tightens his grip on his sword. "How many? What did they look like? Speak

up!"

"An orc, a messenger, came and told us that the army of orcs would reach us in ten

days, and that they carried two Halflings. That was twelve days ago."

Master went pale. "Was there anything significant about these Halflings?"

The orc smirked. "If you're asking if they wore elven cloaks and brooches, then yes."

Master backs up against the wall of the cave and slumps down. He puts his head in his

hands. The fat one says to the orcses, "Now see what you've done! Poor Mr. Frodo

already has so much to worry about. Now we have Pippin and Merry to worry about too!"

The orc grins, then shudders and doesn't move anymore.

The fat one runs over to Master. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?"

"No, Sam. I'm not. But we must keep going."

Master leaps up and does a tuck-and-roll in mid-air…and falls flat on his face. The fat

one claps, because if he doesn't, Master might fire him. Master looks up and glares

at the fat hobbit. His face is beet-red.

"Don't just stand there, Sam! Help me up!"

"Yessir, Mr. Frodo. Whatever you say, Mr. Frodo." The fat one quickly helps him up.

"That was a lovely tuck-and-roll, Mr. Frodo. The best I've seen since me ol' gaffer

was spry enough to do that!"

Master glares at him. "Tuck-and-roll? Who did a tuck-and-roll? I certainly didn't." He

glares at the fat one. "No, _I_ certainly did no such thing. Got that, Sam?"

A look of understanding comes into the fat one's eyes. He slowly nods.

"Of course, Mr. Frodo. I didn't see a thing. I _unquestionably_ didn't see you do a dud

tuck-and-roll. And even if I did, I'd keep mum about it."

They start to walk out of the cave. Suddenly Master stops. "Sméagol!" He exclaims.

The fat one stops dead in his tracks. "I forgot all about him!" He narrows his eyeballs.

He looks around the cave, then spots us where we was hiding in the corner. We doesn't

have time to run. He is on us before we can say "fish." He draws his sword.

"No Sam! Don't hurt him!"

We nods ferociously. "Master is right! Don't hurt poor thin Sméagol!"

"But Mr. Frodo! You have to be able to see it now. He wants to kill us!" The fat one

sounds frustrated with Master. "He led us here so the orcs would murder us! That's all he

came to do. To see us get killed!"

Master puts his hand on the fat one's arm. "Sam. Compose yourself." He turns to us.

"Well, Sméagol? Was this your idea?"

Weeses looks gob-smacked at him. "Of course not! How was we, poor little us,

supposed to know there was orcs here? The fat one always complains that we make the

nice hobbitses walk too far, so we thoughts we would give them a break."

The fat one scowled. "Look at 'im, Mr. Frodo. 'Es lyin'. I can see it in his eyes."

"We doesn't lie! Our eyeballs don't lie." We slink over to Master and open our

eyeballs wide. "Ask them, Precious! _Ask_ them if they lies!"

Master looks solemnly into our eyeballs. "Eyeballs, do you lie?"

We turns our head so he can't see us talking. We crank our voice up a notch. "No, of

 _course_ not, Precious! We _never_ lies."

The fat one and Master look at each other. The Master sighs. "We'll have to trust

them. Those eyeballs _are clearly_ honest. I'm beginning to get suspicious, but we can't

get to Mordor by ourselves."

"But Mr. Frodo, what if he tries to get us killed?"

Master looks at us. "That's a risk we'll have to take."

We runs ahead and gives a maniacal cackle to ourselves. "Foolish hobbits. So daft. So,

 _so_ daft."

 _ **THE END**_

* * *

 _ **Question of the day: Who's your favorite character in Lord of the Rings?**_


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